


A Scheme

by Diviana



Series: A Social Contract [4]
Category: DCU
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diviana/pseuds/Diviana
Summary: Dick and Jason false relationship leads to a kidnapping among other schemes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for this taking so long. For new readers, this is part of a series and should be read after the others.

A pressure pinned down Jason’s thigh. Dick held Jason’s shaking leg. Making eye connect, Dick pointed at the communicator and pressed his index finger to his mouth: _shush_. Rolling his eyes, Jason stilled his leg.

“When you’re done with patrol, stop by my apartment,” Dick said.

“Why?” Dick echoed. “I’ve been looking at this case so much that…”

Pausing for effect, Dick cleared his throat and continued, “I could use a fresh set of eyes.”

Dick sighed, “And Jay’s busy…”

Jason poked Dick’s side. Glaring at Dick, Jason mouthed: _don’t call me that_. Dick swatted Jason’s hand away.

“Anyway, I’ll leave the window unlocked for you,” Dick finished, hanging up.

Dick looked at Damian in the armchair and then Jason to Dick’s left and held his thumb up in victory. Jason shifted on the well-worn couch. His arm half-numb from Dick’s weight on it. Although the couch has room for three, Dick sat not only next to Jason but leaning on him. Jason felt a small amount of joy in watching Damian stiffen uncomfortably at the affectionate act.

“It’s only us three…” Damian began from his perch.

Dick warned, “ **Damian.** ”

Dick’s usually mercurial tone was harsh to the ears. It rubbed Jason’s ear drums with equal parts exhaustion and reproach. Even Jason forgot for a moment that they were only pretending to be a couple.

Damian clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. 

Jason offered, “Moving on…”

Dick straightened up and the blood flow returned to Jason’s arm. Jason off-handedly massaged it. Dick leaned forward, turning the air conspiratorial.

“Let’s run through this,” Dick said, glanced briefly at Jason.

Jason said, “You call him. We take him out, easy-peasy.”

Dick’s eyes flickered between Damian and Jason. Dick sighed, “No broken bones.”

Puffing out his chest, Damian remarked, “If you think I need to use force to subdue him, Grayson, you are greatly overestimating his skills.”

“No broken bones,” Dick repeated.

Damian nodded as Jason stood up. Stretching his arms above his head, Jason questioned Dick with a tilt of his head.

Dick replied, “He said he’ll be in thirty.”

* * *

Dick flipped through a file, suppressing the urge to look up. If Dick’s guest arrived on time, glancing over his shoulder might give away Jason and Damian’s positions. Dick threw his back and pinched his temples.

Closing his eyes, he picked up the creaking of the fire escape. Dick opened his eyes and leaned forward. He picked up the file and redoubled his performance. He inhaled to calm his nerves.

“Hello, you know you can use the door,” Dick said aloud.

Turning around, Dick saw Tim in all his Red Robin glory. Tim shook his head, removing his domino mask. Tim smiled weakly.

“Bad habit,” Tim excused.

Dick stood up, gesturing for Tim to come closer. Tim followed, exiting the shadows. He paused and stared at a pile of clothes on the floor. His expression twisted.

Pointing at them with his boot, Tim judged, “I thought we were hiding our identities.”

Dick jogged over. Wrapping an arm around Tim, Dick pushed the Nightwing uniform out of sight. Opening the file, Dick showed Tim his case. With his other hand, Dick unclipped Tim’s com.

“We’re not here for that, look, there’s a weird pattern but I just can’t put my finger on it,” Dick commented, waving the file.

Tim stole it out of Dick’s hands and ducked out from his grasp. Dick moved in front of him. Leaning over the file, Dick pointed at several dates. Carefully, Dick removed the gas mask from Tim’s utility belt. Dick also noted that Tim needed a refresher course on the pickpocketing.

“Hmm…” Tim hummed, flipping through the file.

Dick clarified, “It’s like all the supers decided to gang up on Gotham.”

 _Thump._ A small cylinder rolled toward Dick and Tim releasing a white smoke. Tim spun on his heels. Dick covered his mouth with Tim’s gas mask. Dick stole Tim’s staff. He felt a solid kick into his side. Dick groaned.

 _Ah, he probably realized…_ Dick thought, thankful the smoke obscured the betrayal that probably twisted Tim’s expression.

Metal clinked onto the ground. Someone removed Tim’s utility belt, Dick assumed. **_Thud. Thump._**

The smoke cleared. Tim collapsed on the floor. Damian and Jason towered over him with masks of their own.

* * *

Rubbing his face, Tim sat up. Immediately, he hit the bed again. His head spun. Piecing together events, Tim opened his eyes and took slow, deep breaths.

 _I was drugged by Dick_ , Tim remembered.

His heart thudded. A tangled emotion sat in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Tim blinked and focused on clearing his mind. He sat carefully up.

He was in a large, rectangular room. The bed he occupied sat at the far end of it, opposite a door. To his left, there was a kitchen. To his right, a flat screen. Everything was a sterile shade of white.

_Damian or Jason’s_ , Tim reasoned, mentally running down a list of possible locations.

The lack of windows made his task more difficult. The shape reminded Tim of a bunker and the reinforced door supported that. The dimensions didn’t fit: too wide, too long, too much space.

“Oh you’re awake,” Dick remarked.

The heavy door swung open. Dick entered flanked by Jason and Damian. Tim curled his hands into fist and stood up. Ignoring Tim, Dick closed the door. _**Clank.**_ The lock closed. They crossed the room with ease. Tim glared at them.

“Sorry, about this,” Dick said, gesturing at the space.

Tim replied, “Let me out then.”

“Relax, Tim Tam, even on a good day you can’t take on all three of us,” Jason remarked.

Tim dropped his arms. Straightening up, Tim scanned the area. The corner of his mouth twitched. His chances of escaping were slim unless…

“How long are you planning on keeping me here?” Tim growled, crossing his arms.

Dick said, apologetic “A week or two...”

“Aren’t you taking this argument too far,” Tim rebuked. His fingers tapped, searching for his spare communicator.

“Humph,” Dick cleared his throat. “If you’re trying to trick me into a monologue, I think we all have enough experience for that not to happen.”

Glaring at Damian, Tim remarked, “You joined them.”

Tim gestured to Jason and Dick with a jerk of his chin.

“Father needs to be stopped,” Damian replied, ambiguously.

Brushing his hair out of his face, Dick remarked, “If you’re trying to buy time, it’s not going to work.”

“What-“

The flat screen flashed on interrupting Tim’s exclamation Barbara covered the screen. Adjusting her mic, she said, “I assume that’s my cue.”

“You helped them kidnap me too?!” Tim threw his hands into the air.

Jason’s head turned from Dick to the screen to Tim. Jason broke out laugh, He held his sides as he wheezed.

“Dick is… amazing!” Jason burst out.

Dick quipped, “Capital or lowercase d?”

Shaking his head, Jason said, “Your mob boss phase is the best. I’m falling for you… all over again.”

Dick pinched his temples with his thumb and index finger. He exhaled heavily. Jason controlled himself and patted Dick unconvincingly.

“I’ve already imprisoned me. You two can stop the act,” Tim groaned.

“That hurts guys,” Jason commented, nonplus, “Why does everybody got to say that. Do I need to fuck him in front of you believe it?”

“Jason,” Dick reprimanded without much of a bite.

Exchanging glances with Tim, Damian said “My working theory is Stockholm Syndrome.”

“He has Libra on his inner left thigh,” Jason muttered, clicking his tongue.

Barbara chimed in, “Is Libra’s the four stars shaped like a rectangle?”

Jason nodded and added, “They’re a little too close to be Libra, but…”

Jason shrugged.

“I always considered them more like an ‘x’,” Barbara explained.

Covering his ears, Tim grumbled, “You’re already trapping me no need to torture me.” 

“Why are you part of this,” Tim questioned, ignoring that previous display.

Barbara’s expression darkened. She inhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. She slowly removed her glasses and massaged her eyes. She laboriously exhaled. Repositioning her glasses, she opened her eyes.

“ _Bruce_ ,” she intoned, heavily. “Two decades of _**Bruce**_.”

_Damn it, Bruce, who didn’t you piss off_ , Tim wondered.

* * *

Denying the deep ache in his bones and the weariness leaking out of his pores, Bruce leaned back in his seat. The Bat Computer churned out figures and images. Bruce scanned for connections. His eyes protested, watering against his will. Bruce closed his eyes. The throbbing in his head doubled. Every cell in his body fought him. Bruce opened his eyes.

If crime didn’t rest neither could he.

The downtick in crimes combined with the uptick of the quality of crime made Bruce nervous. If history told him anything, someone was organizing crime in Gotham. Jason popped into Bruce’s mind.

Bruce blinked, weighing that possibility.

_Gotham’s Sweetheart in Love with a Bad Boy_ , a picture of Jason and Dick dramatically flirting in the middle of a hotel accompanied that headline. Dick and Jason were certainly adding to his headache but…

Discarding it, Bruce frowned. _Decrease in the number of crimes, increase in meta-crimes…_

His gut told him something’s off. Bruce thought, _I’m missing something important._

A moment later, the cave filled with noise. The screen flashed with Oracle’s logo. Bruce accepted the call.

“Hello-“

Barbara interrupted, “Tim’s been missing.”

“What?”

“Missing,” she repeated, “I haven’t been able to contact him for over week now.”

Bruce closed his eyes. Vaguely an email appeared behind them: President Drake on extended leave. Bruce assumed Tim had been hospitalized for his eating habits.

“Thank you, I will handle this,” Bruce replied.

Bruce clicked a few keys on. The last of Tim’s Red Robin location data flash across the screen. The red dot blinked out near the end of Tim’s patrol.

_A jamming device?_ Bruce considered.

His gut again panged. Connections his brain refused to make scratched at the corners of his consciousness. Bruce rubbed his face. His body screamed at him to rest, but Bruce ignored it

He pressed a button to call Batwoman, but she did not pick up. Neither did Batwing nor Nightwing nor the other allies in the city.

Bruce clenched his jaw and frowned. The suspicion growing in his belly. The connection he could not make dug into his synapses.

“Father,” Damian said, approaching strangely slow.

Bruce glanced over his shoulder and cocked his eyebrow.

“It appears that Pennyworth has been taken,” Damian enunciated.

Jumping out of his seat, Bruce stared at Damian in disbelief.

“Alfred is missing,” Bruce said, emphasizing each word.

His heart raced. Bruce focused his breathing to tamper the rush of shock and anger. Damian nodded his head reluctantly.

“He came home late. I want to search for him and found the car abandoned,” Damian clarified.

_Tim’s missing. Alfred’s missing… Bat Incorporated Network down…._ _One person is behind this_ , Bruce knew. _Too many coincidences lined up._

* * *

Entering the bunker, Jason observed Tim at the table. Alfred set a mug of coffee in front of Tim and had a cup of tea for himself. At the sight of Jason and Dick, Alfred stood up.

“Would either of you like a cup of tea?” Alfred offered.

Dick shook his head and slid into free seat. Jason took the one next to him and gestured for Alfred to pour him tea. Dick set a bag on the table.

“Here’s a set of clothes you asked for, Alfred, sorry about taking so long,” Dick said.

“Thank you, Mister Richard. Can you bring tea leaves? Early Grey or perhaps chamomile,” Alfred replied.

Shaking his head, Dick replied, “You probably won’t need it.”

Holding up a pack of his own, Dick smiled, “I’m sleeping over today… and if all goes well it’d be over tomorrow.”

Jason glanced between Alfred, Tim, and Dick and down to the tea cup in front of him. Shrugging, he sipped it. Tim rubbed his temples.

“Alfred, you joined them too?” Tim said in the tone of “et tu, Brutus”.

Jason grinned into his cup. Alfred cleared his throat and Jason tilted his head. Alfred took another long sip from his tea before placing it on the table.

“Mister Timothy, I have been caring for Mister Bruce the last fifty odd years,” Alfred commented.

Reading between the lines, Jason felt that Alfred was tired of Bruce’s shit.

“Why are you here?” Tim questioned, glaring at Jason.

Dick smiled, “Alfred asked for a few things when we dropped him here two nights ago…”

“No, not you,” Tim interrupted, “ _you_.”

Tim referenced Jason with his unwelcoming tone.

“I’m here to help set things up,” Jason replied, “which reminds me…”

Finishing his tea, Jason brushed his hands on his jeans. He stood up and tilted his head toward the door. He looked at Dick pointedly. Dick glanced at the time and followed suit. As Dick began to close the door, Jason reached in and kissed Dick.

Releasing, Jason stage-whispered, “Good luck.”

“You seem to enjoy this performance a lot more now,” Dick chuckled, speaking in a low voice.

Jason hissed, “Shut it.”

* * *

Bruce’s communicator flashed red. The name Red Hood appeared in his visors along with an image. Pressing his brace, Bruce connected the call.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t have to,” Jason began.

Jason exhaled heavily, “Dick is missing and I need your help-“

“What?” Bruce replied.

Bruce temples throbbed. The string of strange crimes; the disappearance of two Tim and Alfred; and the difficulty of contacting allies meant he hadn’t had full night’s sleep in weeks now. His body hated him. The gears in his brain grinded together, attempting to make sense of it all.

Bruce groaned, “Where?”

“The clock tower,” Jason suggested, immediately cutting off the call.

A few moments later Bruce observed Jason’s outline paced in front of the clock face. Bruce leapt from the shadows, drawing Jason’s attention. Visibly upset, Jason stalked over to Bruce.

“Enough with the theatrics, Dick is fucking missing,” Jason growled.

Bruce analyzed Jason’s face. Jason appeared sincere in his desire to find Dick, but, from the tightness of Jason’s jaw, Bruce realized Jason was hiding something.

Before Bruce could ask anything, his communicator flashed red. This time Robin appeared. A short message flashed in his vision: _Warehouse District. Now. Red Robin located._ Bruce rubbed his temples. Jason appeared sincere in his frustration. Bruce sighed.

“Follow me,” Bruce muttered, then leapt off the building.

Damian stood by a tall set of wooden crates. His finger pressed on his communicator. His head flicked between the device and a warehouse door.

“Father,” Damian greeted.

His voice dropped, “T- _Red Hood_.”

“I’m not happy either, short stuff,” Jason shot back.

Shaking his head, Bruce asked, “Why did you call us here?”

“I picked up a faint beacon in this area, and found this,” Damian reported.

Damian held up a stripe of red fabric. The texture suggested Wayne Enterprise material. Damian pointed to the warehouse door.

“Oracle is opening the door…”

“Now,” Barbara chimed in.

“The defenses are unique for a plain warehouse,” Barbara warned. “The external system was easily accessible. The internal one not so much.”

Trap, Bruce read in-between the lines. His gut tingled supporting Barbara’s suspicions. Something about the entire situation felt off. It did not take two genius to recognize a trap.

“Understood, Robin invited you?” Bruce checked.

A different part of his mind flexed. The sudden influx of support when the last few weeks he had never radio silence from anyone except Robin sat uneasily in his mind. He ran the possibilities and frowned. 

“Are you complaining?” Barbara teased. Her playful tone turned serious. “I uploaded the blueprints to everyone.”

Bruce quickly skimmed the plans before making eye contact with Damian and Jason. They nodded and reached for their weapons. Bruce clenched his teeth at the sight of Jason’s gun. Jason cocked his head at Bruce. If the helmet weren’t in the way, Bruce knew Jason would roll his eyes. Instead Jason shook his head.

“I’ll _try_ not to kill anyone,” Jason remarked.

The red painted door appeared to the only entrance. He gestured for Damian and Jason to ready themselves. As they entered the dark building, something clanged into the distance as a foot made contact with it. The object bounce a wall ahead of them. Bruce estimate they were in a narrow hallway not on the blueprints.

His night vision turned on and the world appeared in a green tint. In front of him, Bruce saw two screens mounted on a white wall. Bruce turned his head toward the previous sound. Lying a few feet from Damian was a short metal rod. Bruce blinked.

_Dick’s escrima stick_ , Bruce recognized.

His gut itched again.

Bruce jerked his head reflexively away. Lights flashed on, cutting off his thoughts. The brightness blinded Bruce. He immediately turned off the night vision and held up his arms defensively. He blinked, clearing away the spots of white dancing in his vision. He heard Jason and Damian grunting to his left and right.

Twenty seconds passed. Bruce opened his eyes and read the message on the screens: _Welcome Batman._

A moment later, a video feed appeared. Three figures sat, their arms bound, faces covered. Two slouched unmoving. The third, Alfred, Bruce figured from his height and suit, rocked slightly. The movement scratched the back of Bruce’s mind.

“Shit,” Jason swore.

The unclicking of Jason’s safety redirected Bruce’s mind briefly. He skimmed the new text. It amounted to surrender or they die. A timer counted down from five minutes.

Bruce refocused on the image of Alfred, Tim and Dick. The rhythmic motion popped back out at Bruce. He stimulated different codes in his head.

_Straight. 3. Right. 2. Left._ Bruce deciphered.

Exchanging glanced with the former Robins, Bruce surmised that they made the same deduction. They moved quickly without speaking. The halls empty screamed trap, but something else bothered Bruce.

He could not put his finger on it. Traps are made to be easy… There was something more to this that his addled mind could not put together.

They turned left into a wide room. The door bolted behind the three. A similarly armored door stood closed in front of them. The room filled with smoke. Bruce quickly attached his oxygen mask and his visor protected his eyes.

_Thump. Thump._

At least two figures entered the room. The smoke obscured their locations, but their landings gave away their presence. A kick knocked Bruce backward toward the door, separating the three heroes. The shadows moved, indicating a fight in the distance. A whoosh alerted to the second person. Blocking his front, he felt a punch from the left.

_Thump. Thump._ The number of opponents increased. _**Pow. Thwack. Smack.**_ The noise of flesh making contact with bone and cloth and metal hitting concrete suggested Damian and Jason similarly meet more trouble. 

Bruce’s gut itched again.

The movements of his opponent matched that of someone with military experience. _**Pow. Pow. Blam. Whoosh. Thwack.**_ Attacks came at Bruce from several directions. The other shadowy figures held stances that also suggested training. The air escaped his lungs from an irregular kick.

Bruce analyzed. _Four figures. Two with traditional training. Two trained later in lif— a_  


“Stop,” Bruce said, loudly.

Everything clicked into place.

“Was is your goal, Dick?” Bruce questioned.

Jason groaned, “I thought I could get a few more punches in first.”

The door behind Bruce opened. The smoke quickly cleared. In front of him stood four figures in black. Bruce briefly scanned the area. A pair of green tights peeked out from behind a box. Barbara appeared on a screen mounted in front of the door. Bruce crossed his arms and waited.

Removing his mask, Dick said, “You can’t plan for everything Bruce.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“Hush. Listen,” Alfred stated from Dick’s left.

Bruce clenched his teeth.

“Tim disappeared for two weeks and it took you three minutes to figure out –“

Jason interrupted Dick, “You’re getting slow and old.”

“This is an intervention,” Bruce said.

Damian nodded.

“Are you trying to force me to retire?”

Dick shook his head. “Not yet anyway. If you’d asked any of us for help when this situation first started it wouldn’t have escalated to this.”

Jason groaned.

“You can’t do things alone. You haven’t for a long time. Rely on us more,” Dick summarized.

Bruce rubbed his temples. “And you thought coming up with convoluted scheme rather than—“

“Bull. Mister Bruce. You never listen to others unless you’re agreeable first. It’s almost time for you to retire and you should delegate more of your duties instead of this ridiculous mid-life crisis,” Alfred lectured.

Bruce diverted his gaze suddenly recalling his childhood scoldings. 

“What exactly was your plan?” Bruce asked.

Dick chuckled, “To literally beat some sense into you. And that that convoluted plan actually got the support of a majority of the Bat Network and Justice League says a lot.”

Bruce looked at Dick whose smile emphasized the lines of his face. Shifting his focus, Bruce saw Alfred’s stern mouth and tired yet kind eyes. Damian stood proud and determined. Jason crossed his arms and rolled his eyes at Bruce. Barbara’s eyes pierced Bruce communicating essentially that she was tired of his reckless actions.

“I’ll take it under consideration. Where is Tim?” Bruce asked, exhausted.

Dick spun on his heels and shouted, “Fuck!”

“Hmm? Why so worried? It’s not like you had a real bom-“ Jason began.

Barbara stated, “I turned off the flash-bomb if that’s what you’re worried about.”

* * *

Dick leaned onto Jason. The weariness settling into his bones after freeing Tim. The room exchanged glances. Rubbing his wrists, Tim cleared his voice.

Dick rolled his eyes and shifted more of his weight onto Jason.

“What else are you planning?” Bruce asked, eying the two of them.

Jason answered in Dick’s stead, “Nothing. Just got to shut this place down when y’all leave.”

“You two are going to milk that for all of its worth, aren’t you?” Tim frowned, wrinkling his nose.

“Urgh. As Jason would say, just fuck off already,” Dick said, ladling his words with exhaustion and annoyance.

Jason shoved Dick off as soon as the coast was clear. Dick straightened up and brushed off his clothes. Jason walked off and gathered his Red Hood uniform from the corner.

“Hm, how was that for a fourth performance?” Dick grinned.

Shaking his head, Jason said, “Not bad. Seeing Bruce flustered is always fun.”

“Not worth an encore?” Dick pouted playfully.

“We already got Bruce to doubt his doubts, what else do you want?”

“Come on, you have to admit our fake relationship was fun,” Dick repeated.

Jason commented, “And now it’s over.”

“Breaking up so soon? We should work together again some time.”

“Nope,” Jason answered, turning to leave.

“Wait, quick question. How’d you know I have four moles on my thigh?”

Jason paused and faced Dick. A red tint appeared on Jason’s ears. Jason diverted gaze and shuffled in place. Jason coughed, “I was a short kid. You changed in front of me. It was either look there or stare at…”

“Oh,” Dick vocalized, clasping his hand over his mouth.

Without speaking, Jason marched away. Dick remained. A strange warmth radiated out from his chest, one part embarrassment and something else. Dick buried the something else, blaming all of his heart's erratic-ness on his chagrin.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't the neatest ending, but I hope all of you enjoyed it even my lame attempts of action.


End file.
